


Ten Minutes From the End

by unassumingvenusaur



Series: SRCU (Sahri Rhoshaan Cinematic Universe) [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F, F/M, For Y'shtola/WoL which is the main, Gen, Holding Hands, Hurt No Comfort, Loss of Humanity, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension, resigned to death, the others are more background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28296255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unassumingvenusaur/pseuds/unassumingvenusaur
Summary: As the Scions prepare to trek through Amaurot's final days, Sahri grapples with her impending demise.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light, Y'shtola Rhul/Warrior of Light
Series: SRCU (Sahri Rhoshaan Cinematic Universe) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058933
Kudos: 14





	Ten Minutes From the End

**Author's Note:**

> As a Christmas present to myself, here is the last of my playing-through-5.0 fics touched up! Short and somber, given it's set immediately before the Amaurot dungeon. When Sahri had the option to tell Ryne "Fate can be cruel, but a smile better suits a hero" I realized, oh. Oh, she's absolutely certain she's going to die. So I ran with that sentiment some. 
> 
> I originally wrote this before actually playing the Amaurot dungeon so I had no idea what would happen next, I was in suspense! I'm surprised the bit about Emet's name actually bore fruit. (I revised some things for consistency w/other fics but that was unaltered).
> 
> With this now done I think next I'm going to work more on [_The Rebirth of Azem_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013340), my head's been swimming with ideas for that but I wanted to finish editing these first. Going back through these has also made me want to write more Sahri/Thancred and Sahri/Minfilia stuff...we'll see where that leads.
> 
> The Warrior of Light in this fic is named Sahri Rhoshaan.

Amaurot burns behind the Capitol door, and Sahri is trying her best to stay patient as the others make their final preparations for confronting Emet-Selch. …Emet…The idea of confronting that sad man, putting an end to his existence once and for all…Even for G’raha’s sake, it still…It still hurt. She hated that it hurt. Somehow, even knowing the extent of his crimes, the complete disregard which he treated life as it now existed…Despite having only met him a few short months prior…He held strong purchase in her heart. 

…No. Not ‘somehow.’ She...she couldn’t pretend she did not remember. Between all of the pieces Emet had fed her and Hythlodaeus’ seeming confirmation--in tandem with what her soul screamed out on its own--it did not take a scholar to put her past together. And the cruelest part was that now, so close to reclaiming a memory long-forgotten, all she could do for the world was assure his destruction before her own time came. …She at least hopes she’ll be able to learn his name. That would give her some modicum of peace, she thinks, as walking the streets of Amaurot has. The name of…

“Trapped in a sea of your own thoughts again, moonbeam?”

Sahri snaps out of her trance. Y’shtola had made her way to her side, looking upon her...well. Actually, her eyes were not expectant. They did not betray a pressing need to speak about some issue or another. No, she possessed none of her usual intensity. Rather...she seemed most tired. And how could Sahri blame her? So was she…

“I’m afraid so, Y’shtola,” Sahri tells her. “It is difficult not to be, with how little time I have left…” Sorrow sweeps over the other woman’s face. A rare sight, reserved for the gravest of occasions...It certainly suited this one.

“…Yes, I would imagine so.” Y’shtola takes a step closer. “But if these truly are to be your final moments, are you certain you’re content to spend them alone, in a prison of your own mind?”

Sahri couldn’t think of anything lonelier. So instead, she turns to Y’shtola and smiles.

“…You’re right. As usual. Let us speak, then.”

Y’shtola laughs bitterly, a pained smile rising to her own face. “I’m afraid I do not have much to offer to a conversation, other than apologies.” Taken aback by the woman’s tone, Sahri gives her a deep frown.

“It’s not your fault, Y’shtola,” she reminds her. “This is and has always been my choice.”

“I know that well,” Y’shtola agrees. “I did tell you it is the strength of your conviction that has kept me going in these trying times—not to mention times before. It is why I will follow you, wherever your path may lead.” Her eyes take a turn for the dark, her voice following. “But Alisaie had the right of it in the Crystarium. In the end, my reassurances and pledges to assist you were but empty words, with naught to back them up.”

Never had Sahri heard Y’shtola speak with such...enmity towards herself. So she was not unflappable, after all--her confidence, her will not limitless. Laid bare by trying circumstances, she was as much a woman as Sahri. As subject to doubt. As subject to despair leading her astray from the truth. Heart stirring with an emotion Sahri cannot place, she rests her hand on the woman’s shoulder. 

“They were not empty, Shtola,” Sahri reassures her. “I know you tried your hardest to find a way to save me. I can only imagine the sleepless nights you undertook on my behalf. And when I’m at my weakest, you stand by me. As you are doing now.” Sahri is smiling, sadly but sincerely. “You are the most stalwart ally I could ask for. Because of you, I was able to face the days and weeks leading up to this moment with a smile on my face. Please know that.”

It is a sight none would believe if she told them, to see tears welling in the corners of Y’shtola’s eyes. Yet they do not fall. Y’shtola smiles back at her, grateful.

“…It heartens me to know that,” she says in a low voice. “Truly. But that does not make it less difficult to see that hope has fled you once again, and know I have none of my own to bolster it with.”

“I do have hope, though,” Sahri objects. “That you, Ryne, and the rest of the Scions will be able to finish what we started together. The First may yet be saved. That is my dream, at least.” At her words, the bitterness, the sorrow fades from Y’shtola’s face.

“…I swear I will not stop fighting for that dream til the day my body fails me.” There she was. There was her resolve, rekindled. Sahri beams at her.

“Thank you, Shtola.”

There was so much more Sahri wished to say to her...but she held her tongue. Such would cause naught but pain, now. Instead, she waits for Y’shtola to speak. The woman does not meet her gaze for a few moments. When she does once more, it is with a simple question.

“…Is there aught else I can do to put your heart at ease?”

Sahri taps her cheek, pondering. “Actually, there is,” she realizes. “Do you remember the letter I wrote to Lady Lukah?”

Y’shtola’s eyebrows rise. “Your mother? I do.”

“It…is among my personal effects, back in my room at the Pendants,” Sahri explains. “Could you see it gets delivered to her? If not in form, at least in message?” It was true she’d written the letter in a moment of desperation, of despair...a time she’d resigned herself to death prematurely. Yet now, as she stared her inevitable doom in the face, it served a purpose once more. Thankfully, it would seem Y’shtola agreed, as the woman gives her a solemn nod.

“That, I can do. I will endeavour to share your final sentiments with the rest of your loved ones, as well.” She cracks a wry smile. “Though I daresay it may be difficult to track every one of them down.” The two share a small chuckle.

“Thank you, truly. Other than that…I’m not sure.” A morbid thought occurs to Sahri, but an important one. “I don’t suppose you have any spells...that could cast me to the rift, as Ra—the Exarch originally intended for himself?”

Y’shtola purses her lips, but otherwise controls her reaction. “Nay. Such magic is beyond my ken. It was only by channeling the power of the Crystal Tower that he would be able to manage such a feat.” 

“…And all for my sake…” Sahri clutches her heart and wills herself not to cry. Instead, she smiles, memories of young love bubbling in her heart. “Oh, Raha…Even over centuries, you do not change.”

“That’s right... I did hear you call out a name at the Crown of the Immaculate.” Y’shtola does not try to hide her curiosity. “It was always clear the two of you had a connection, of course…But how exactly _did_ you become acquainted with the Exarch?” 

Sahri folds her arms. “Acquainted…Hm. Yes…our endeavour at the Crystal Tower those years ago wasn’t a Scion operation,” she remembers. “We were still gathering ourselves from that first bout with Garlemald.” 

Y’shtola tilts her head, silently urging Sahri to continue.

“His name is G’raha Tia,” Sahri tells her, still smiling. “He was an Archon, like you. A Student of Baldesion. A scholar of history. Together with Cid, we uncovered the ancient history of Allag locked in the tower, to keep it from posing a threat to Eorzea. Somewhere along the way, we discovered he was the last heir to Allag’s royal blood. He sealed himself and the tower away, til such a time its technology might be properly understood and put to peaceful use.”

Sahri’s heart squeezes tightly in her chest.

“…He was also the first man I ever truly loved.”

Y’shtola’s eyes widen in sympathy. “Love…That would explain it. How far he has gone for your sake. Why he was prepared to give his very life for you.”

“He was always an incurably soft-hearted man,” Sahri sighs with a wistful shake of her head. “Ever has my love for him carried forth on time’s eternal wind. That will not change, even after I am gone. And it seems he felt much the same. If I don’t get the chance, thank him for me, won’t you?” Y’shtola smiles at her.

“I will.”

Sahri nods with a smile of her own. The hour was growing late, as much as she did not want to admit it. The light would wait for no one. She glances around the room to see if the others are ready. Thancred and Ryne fiddled over gunblade cartridges together. Alisaie and Alphinaud seemed locked in tense conversation. And Urianger simply stood there, deep in thought as he ever was. What a beautiful group, they were. She could see it in the very aether of their souls. 

…Sahri does her best to ignore the pang of hunger she feels. No. No. Not yet. Instead, she would indulge an idle curiosity of hers.

“…I wonder…is this how you see the world, Y’shtola?” she asks. Y’shtola tilts her head.

“Pardon?”

“I wasn’t certain at first, but…I think I’m starting to gain a second sight,” Sahri tells her. “The ability to see the aether in others. In the world around.”

Y’shtola furrows her brow. “But why would…” After a moment, her eyes widen in realization. “…Ah.”

“It’s a beautiful sight,” Sahri continues, refusing to linger on the ugly reality. “I always knew the aether in the environment and the aether that grants us life were one in the same…But being able to witness it myself is truly humbling. Everything has its own vibrant color…Even if it is not colour as I would normally know. I simply wondered if this was how you see the world, all the time.”

Y’shtola taps her cheek. “It…does not sound dissimilar. Hmm…” An idea flashes across her eyes. “Tell me. When you look at Ryne, what colour do you see?”

Oh, Ryne. Sweet Ryne. Her soul was the most brilliant at all. Please, keep on smiling. Smiling as a hero should...

“…A shimmering gold,” Sahri tells the woman. “It’s breathtaking.”

Y’shtola smiles. “We see the same sight, then,” she confirms. Sahri rests her hand on her chest.

“…That makes me happy.” It was a small point of connection, but it felt profound. “I’m glad I could appreciate this sight, while my faculties are still my own.” She looks Y’shtola in the eyes, beaming. “And I’m glad I could share it with you.”

Tears prickle at the corners of Y’shtola’s eyes once more. But she smiles on, reaching to take Sahri’s hand into her own.

“It’s ever a joy, moonbeam.”

They stand there, silently, after that. A simple enjoyment of one another’s company, as the end slowly, yet most assuredly approaches. A few minutes pass til a small voice breaks Sahri from her reverie. Ryne’s.

“Um…Sahri?”

“Yes, dear?”

“…We’re ready.”

The determination in Ryne’s eyes carries true for each of her companions standing around the room, looking towards her to lead the way. Yes…Yes. These beautiful souls…She could entrust them with her legacy. Sahri turns to Y’shtola, who nods and releases her hand.

“…Then we have no time to waste. To the Exarch.” _I’m on my way, Emet_.

**Author's Note:**

> Idly I adore the trial name for the Hades fight, _The Dying Gasp_. When I first saw it I immediately thought it referred to the WoL's own dying gasp, their last moment of strength. But knowing the outcome there's a lot of other potentialities for what it refers to--Hades' dying gasp, Amaurot's dying gasp, the dying gasp of Azem and Emet's friendship/relationship depending on how you run with that...ShB writing is a lot


End file.
